


Matters of the Heart

by schulott



Series: And we find home in each other's arms [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Developing Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, marcus is sort of the (silent) ally?, no beta i just perish, set around Bahrain GP 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schulott/pseuds/schulott
Summary: Mick misses Callum, and Callum misses Mick. Probably a little more clarity would help them out, as would things going their way, but most importantly if they would take control to make it better for themselves.(Or: Mick is more reserved than Callum is about their feelings, which makes Callum doubt things, and Marcus is just there to nudge them in the right direction.)(Near-)future fic working through pre-2021 season to around the aftermath of the second race.
Relationships: Callum Ilott/Mick Schumacher
Series: And we find home in each other's arms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089959
Comments: 16
Kudos: 98





	Matters of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any of these characters, and this is a work of fiction. This is not intended to be any reference to, or be any likeness to any people or events in real life. No economic value of any kind has been produced in writing this.
> 
> Basically I spent all day writing this. Do I regret everything? Possibly.
> 
> Stole a line out of my other fic to use as title because I'm absolutely useless when it comes to titles.

**18 February 2021**

_Thursday 01:37 CET_

Mick thinks he is used to all the distancing measures by now, not sure if it is better or worse to be the case, but he thinks he is. He has spent the shortened winter break the way it has been in 2020, mostly at home in Switzerland and the mountains around it, occasionally taking hikes with Angie, or taking out his bike for a ride when indoors workout just gets a bit too repetitive for even him.

When he was not at home, he could mostly be found in his team's bases in Banbury and Maranello doing work there in preparation for the season, doing seat fits and sim work, PR obligations here and there, and sitting through meetings to learn the ropes of the new team and new car, as well as getting to know the team personnel.

Outside of that, he has not really done much or seen too many people aside from the people in his household and the team. He has mostly remained invisible to the world, as he prefers so, steering clear of the whole media shitstorm his team dug itself into, and his social media as well as any other loose ends being taken care of by Sabine.

He has kept in contact with his friends inside and outside racing, though mostly through texts here and there given the impossibility of seeing people in person, on top of the fact that he lives away from where most people are, to start with. He occasionally gets things from Robert - sometimes some funny video that amuses him, sometimes some intelligible texts that Mick suspects is drunk texting; then there is Marcus, who greets him with the festives, and occasionally talks to him about anything that interferes with his wish of just existing without doing much else. He asks after Juan sometimes, asking how he is doing and glad that he is recovering well. Jüri has been all over the shop somehow, hanging out with the Correas one moment and back in Europe another, much to Mick’s amazement. The real flurry of activity that graces his messaging app, though, is when the FDA camps were happening, and he would get sent photos and videos of the happenings at camp, or candids of people grimacing or falling asleep in random places.

He is mostly just floating in the periphery of existence in people’s mind, and he likes it just fine, never really liking to be the centre of attention even if he handles it well, even if he likes a good laugh and have fun, he would like for it to be on his terms.

Then there is Callum. They have not really had a label for what it is between them, but they are ‘a thing’, as Marcus has put it when he caught them - Mick’s fault really, it was nothing compromising, but it was because he was lingering on the day he was due to fly home from Abu Dhabi, that Marcus caught them holding each other, too close, too tight and too long for it to be brushed off as two bros having a quick hug. He and Callum text on a near-daily basis, and speak to each other probably at least half as often. Sometimes it is something incredibly mundane, like about the grocery run Callum had gone on, and complaining about people _still_ flouting mask rules; or Mick talking about taking Angie out on a walk by the lake. Sometimes they call in the middle of the night, when life catches up on them and they just need to talk to someone and process their thoughts, their problems, their stresses and their worries. Sometimes they call each other when they just _miss each other too much_ , with whispered promises being made, reassurance being given, and lamentations of the impossibility of getting the other person in the flesh with the stringent but needed quarantine rules in place.

It is at times like these that he is thankful that he is given space even at home, as he would otherwise struggle to come up with an explanation as to whom he is speaking to so often, at all times of the day.

He can see the first race of the year on the horizon, and for all the confidence he has in his own abilities, and for his longing to get back in a car and to do the thing he likes the most in his life, he finds himself feeling perturbed at times, probably from the nerves of making the step into the pinnacle, probably from carrying his name. It is one of the things he has not really mentioned to people, not even to Callum, and only in vague fashion to his mother. He always like to be in control of things in his life, and this is more of a struggle than he would like to admit.

He tosses and turns again in his bed, picking up his phone from the bedside table, opening his contacts list and closes it again, resisting the urge to press the first name on his speed dial.

He sighs, turns again, does the same thing again.

On the third attempt, he presses on the name, holds the phone by his ear. Before he overthinks and reasons with himself that a normal person should be asleep right now, Callum picks up.

Just from Mick saying hey, he senses something is not quite right.

“Something on your mind?”

Callum has the uncanny ability to coax Mick to talk, and Mick more or less spilled what has been brewing for weeks on his mind. He thinks it is unfair of him to be unloading it all onto Callum, feeling it reeks of insensitivity when he is the one with a seat, the one that has avoided the fate of getting so close to the dream only to see it hanging by a thread, with no guarantee that it would ever come to fruition. Callum has reassured him more than once that it is alright, and listened to him, reminded Mick how good he is, that he believes in him, that it is him on account of his ability that won him the championship. Some time later Callum cracked a joke, about something entirely unrelated to racing, and Mick could feel himself laughing genuinely for the first time in days.

* * *

**28 March 2021**

_Sunday 21:07 AST_

It has been a few hours since Mick got out of the car, having gone through the flurry of media interviews, switching between languages to talk to different interviewers; and then sitting through the engineering meeting that dragged on for way too long, not the least aided by the occupant of the other seat sitting at the opposite half of the table, and ranting about some apparent strategy failure or some other things to that effect. Mick likes to think he has patience that is better than the average person, but even he was getting a bit irritated by the end of everything, and he more or less made a beeline for the door the moment the meeting is wrapped up, not the least bit interested in staying in that room for a moment longer.

He has come P9 in the race, largely helped by luck on his side, a well-timed safety car, and some hard defending work for the final few laps. It feels good to have some points on the board, on top of making a reasonable start, having beaten his teammate in both of the races he has taken part in so far. He grabs his bag from his driver room, making sure he has everything and walks back out, ready to leave the paddock and crash in his hotel room.

He waves politely when he runs into Will, who he has talked to earlier in the evening, and is probably now doing one of those review shows for FOM. He gives a thumbs up when Will yells something to congratulate him on his performance, and another wave to the camera when he walks out of shot. He looks up into the Bahraini night sky, pace slowing down to a stroll, zoning out a little as his thoughts take over a little, body moving in autopilot.

It has been just four months since he was last here, when he was still with Prema, and the reorganised calendar meant that the season would end here in Bahrain, that the championship - his title fight with Callum - would be decided here at this circuit.

It feels so long ago and like yesterday at the same time, the feeling of his heart pounding as he crossed the finish line for the sprint race, not knowing if he had made it or not; the feeling of being overcome and the elation when he got out of the car, knowing everything he had been working so hard towards have paid off. There was also Callum stuck to his side all the way through the prize presentation and the aftermath of it, wearing _his_ clothes, the two talking to each other and lost to the outside world. It was as if the strain of the championship was finally lifted from both of them, that they talked properly with each other for the first time in weeks. There was also the turn of events when his deeply buried feelings emerge from deep inside him, that he for once decided to let go of the reins and act on impulse and kissed Callum - and have him kiss back. That he somehow left Bahrain with more than just the championship, but also something that he had never dared dreaming of.

He is deep in his head when he nearly walks straight into someone. Startled, he starts to profusely apologise to whoever he had accidentally bodychecked, before realising it is Robert.

“Ow Mick, have you zoned out again?”

Mick does at least have it in him to look a bit sheepish, while Marcus and Jüri are cracking up next to them. He rubs the back of his neck and readjusts his cap, buying himself time to compose himself and come back to Earth.

“Ehmmm… sorry?” he tries with a little laugh, and Robert just rolls his eyes and holds out a fist for him to bump in greeting, as do the other two.

“We were wondering if you’d want to grab dinner together,” Jüri says by way of a sort of explanation, “you weren’t reading your texts so we figured you’d still be here at the track.”

It is only at that moment he realises his phone in hand is very much off, having not even realised it as it had not occurred to him to check his phone, having been so tired from the race that he is just sort of going through the motions, and not having much to look forward to other than flying home.

He agrees easily as he turns on his phone, following his friends as he slips back into his thoughts. There are still a lot of familiar faces around him in the paddock, especially when support races are on the calendar, the crew at Prema for instance, as he had swung around to their garage to say hello and chatted with Rene earlier in the weekend. His friends, as well, as he has followed their races with keen interest, when he had a moment, on any TV he could find in the garage or the rooms. But there is a very noticeable absentee - at least noticeable to Mick.

Said absentee whose text Mick is now reading, after tapping out a quick reply to his mother.

_good luck for the race, i’d watch while eating Marcus’ leftover pizza_

_oh boy, that is a brilliantly timed sc_

_on the edge of my seat for this bit_

_i’m too old for this_

_get in there boy, only you could drag that thing into the points_

_i miss you_

His chest is filled with a mixture of happiness and longing, the texts a reminder that there is someone always willing him on, but also a painful reminder that Callum is not around in the paddock, that he has not even realised how used to his presence he has been, and how noticeable his absence has been. He takes a deep breath before writing out a reply.

_Rode my luck a little, but defended my ass off for that_

_I miss you too_

_Going to dinner with Marcus Jüri and Robert, I will call you when I’m back at the hotel_

He pauses for a moment before tapping out a yellow heart.

He gets a red one in return after a minute.

He still remembers it, not exactly bitterly, but something close to that, two weeks before Melbourne. It is not like Mick assumed Callum would be flying out, but simply that he had not considered whether it would happen or not beforehand. He was facetiming Callum, like they would do now and then, talking about the leadup to the season, when Callum had brought it up. Being a test driver could mean a multitude of things, both of them are aware of that, and while they know Callum would have FP outings some time during the year, there had not been much clarity beyond that fact. As it turned out, Ferrari decided that they would need Callum in the simulator for Australia, and also in part to cut down on the travelling party for the race to comply with quarantine rules. Mick had tried not to sound upset about the situation, but his face, even when pixelated, had probably given him away - Callum has always had a scarily good read of him anyway.

He had spent his birthday, after the Melbourne race, in pretty low-key fashion, preemptively turning down any festivities anyone may have thought to spring on him. Instead he just leans against the railing of the balcony of his Melbourne hotel room in the morning before he has to take the flight out to Bahrain, talking to his mother at length, before taking a few calls from his friends. Callum was probably one of the last to call, seemingly having waited until midnight in Europe to call him, telling him that he wished he could be there with him so they could celebrate, but he would make it up to him when they see each other.

As it had turned out, Mick’s nagging feeling that it would not be Bahrain, had turned out to be proven true. While they had not talked about it, Mick had a pretty good guess where Ferrari’s performance gain between Friday and Saturday had come from, and with Callum suspiciously quiet all day on Saturday, Mick could quite easily put two and two together. Ferrari had decided that Callum would be an asset for the simulator for the second race as well, and the same had played out again - Callum only calling Mick up briefly on Sunday morning to congratulate him getting into Q2 and wishing him luck for the race.

He knows that it is all part of the job, that Callum is playing his part and giving his all - even if that means pulling all-nighters to help the team sort out their set-up problems - and he knows there is a chance that the efforts would pay off, seeing as how Giovanazzi took the same route into a seat at Alfa. But there is also no guarantee that it would happen, they both know full well how this game of musical chairs is played.

He was a bit quieter than usual at dinner, leaving most of the talking to the guys, smiling when Marcus and Jüri bicker about something that he has not quite caught, something about cows in the background of some picture or other. Robert, as bombastic and loud as he is, is actually shooting him concerned looks, and a moment later he gets a text from the Russian.

_You ok? You’re zoning out again_

_Just tired, I’m alright._

Rob quirks an eyebrow, but nods nonetheless, instead channeling the Italian inside him when he spots a waiter passing by with a pineapple pizza on a dish, muttering in Italian about the blasphemousness of that crime against Italian food. Mario, his engineer, has really turned him into a proper Neopolitan at heart.

By the end of dinner, Mick is feeling more himself again, feeding off the energy of his friends, sometimes shaking his head fondly as Marcus and Jüri argue about yet another inconsequential thing, while he makes little comments here and there just to add fuel to the fire. (“See? Even Mick agrees chicken sushi does not make sense.” Jüri had exclaimed.) When Robert managed to drop his fork unprompted and unimpeded, he sarcastically clapped with a straight face while the other two were clutching their stomach laughing at the ridiculousness as there is sauce flung everywhere. He even had it in him to smile and wave at the camera, making a kissy face when Marcus had his phone out and taking a video for an Insta story.

As Mick bids them farewell and leaves for the hotel, Marcus gestures his phone at Mick with a look. Mick does not know what he means, until he has stepped into his cab and his phone buzzes in his hand.

_Callum would be in Maranello until Friday, in case you’d want to know._

He texts back a quick thanks, already pulling up his booking apps to change his tickets so he would be flying out to Bologna instead of Zürich when he leaves tomorrow, ignoring how his bank account is screaming at the price tag of the change at such short notice. He is more thankful that he still managed to secure a seat on the flight, and texts his mother about the change of plans and tells her not to worry about anything.

* * *

**29 March 2021**

_Monday 00:03 AST_

By the time he has returned to the hotel, organised his things and taken a nice, long shower, it has already been past midnight in Bahrain. He settles down in bed, opening up his laptop and pressing the call button next to Callum’s name. A few moments pass before Callum picks up the call, with not much of a view of anything for Mick, since he is apparently holding his laptop and walking somewhere. The computer lands on what Mick assumes is Marcus’ kitchen counter, before the brown-haired boy finally comes into view, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey, driver of the day.”

“Did I wake you up?” Mick asks, unable to suppress the smile that finds its way to his face, and the tingling feeling that is bubbling inside his chest.

“Nah, just trying to stay up until bedtime so I can have a human sleep schedule.” Callum says, while suppressing a yawn.

Callum fills him in what he has been doing throughout the day - aside from watching the race and eating reheated pizza - which mostly consisted of him going on a stroll down to the factory to get some nice coffee, and sitting in front of the TV to play some COD and Fall Guys to entertain himself, after he had done some workout with what equipment he could find around the place, with Marcus putting everything everywhere. He asks after Mick’s day, mentioning that he hopes the wink he has given on the Sky interview and the kissy face on Marcus’ story is directed at him. Mick huffs out a laugh, not denying Callum's assumption, and moves on to briefly mention that marathon debrief he had to sit through - which had elicited a reaction from Callum who mumbled something that sounds suspiciously like “what a fucking dickhead” - as well as the chaos at dinner with the guys.

But the main thing he really wants to tell Callum is that he would be flying in the following night, he finds himself vibrating out of his skin when he tells Callum of the fact, who first insisted that Mick should not have done that for him, and that he hopes that Marcus did not make him fly in to Maranello instead of heading home. Though just as quickly, he concedes that he is looking forward to finally seeing him after so long, that he misses him a bit too much.

They talk for a bit longer, meandering through the smallest of things that they can think of, keeping the conversation flowing, before the tiredness finally catches up on both of them again, Mick letting out a loud yawn that he is incapable of suppressing mid-sentence. Callum chuckles fondly at that, remarking that maybe they should finally sleep. Mick mumbled some incoherent agreement, and before they finally disconnected, Callum had thrown in a quick “love you”, leaving Mick’s heart soaring in his sleepiness, wondering if he had imagined that or if he really have heard that.

* * *

_Monday 15:24 AST_

“Fancy seeing you here.” Mick hears someone say to him, as the source of the voice, Marcus, sits down next to him. Mick hums, nodding in greeting. They are at the gate for the flight to Bologna at the Dubai airport, most people having taken connection flights out of Bahrain to return to Europe.

“I’ve just realised that I have invited myself to your place without telling you.” Mick speaks up after a moment of silence, with Marcus having pulled out his phone, scrolling on Twitter. Marcus shakes his head without even tearing his eyes from his phone. “I’d be more concerned if you haven’t.”

They let the comment hang in the air, until the flight is called, and both standing up to get ready to board. Mick is about to tell Marcus that he would see him later when they land, when Marcus just leans over to whisper in his ear. “He misses you a lot.” Then he pats Mick on the back and walks a little further down the aisle, leaving Mick gaping a little, before he remembers that he is supposed to move and stow his carry-on and get settled down.

* * *

_Monday 19:17 CET_

Marcus is waiting up for him at the end of the jetway when they get off the plane, Mick trying to stretch his limbs a little, having gone a little stiff from getting stuck in a plane for a few hours, staring at his tablet to watch some show that he has never managed to catch up on. With reduced amount of travellers though, that at least means that there is not a crowd there for them to navigate through, making immigration more of a breeze, though there are also more forms to be filled with declarations and copies of their latest tests results to be submitted and all that, just so they could be transiting through without having to enter quarantine.

They are walking out into the arrivals hall, Mick being busy with getting his suitcase in order, when Marcus bumps him in the shoulder, drawing his attention back to his friend.

“I have a feeling that he is not here for me.” Marcus remarks. At first, Mick is a bit confused as to what Marcus is referring to, until he sees a familiar figure with a mop of fluffy brown hair standing in the arrivals hall, leaning against a pillar and looking down at the phone in hand. Mick’s legs have taken over before his brain registers it, walking briskly across the hall to close the distance. Halfway through, Callum notices him making a beeline for him, and opens his arms subtly as an offer, and Mick does not even hesitate before wrapping himself around the taller boy’s slender frame. “I missed you so much.” Mick whispers, and it seems to have affected Callum quite a bit, as he can feel the hitch in Callum's breath as he hugs back. Mick only pulls back when he remembers that they are in public, just as Marcus strolls up to next to them.

When Mick looks between them, curious as to why they are not saying anything to each other, he finds that the two best friends seem to be communicating with looks alone, because he sees Callum narrowing his eyes at Marcus, who just acts innocent and shakes his head. Before Mick could question it all, Callum has taken hold of Mick’s suitcase and tells them to follow him to the car.

The drive back is quiet, Marcus having not even bothered to call shotgun and slipped into the backseat, leaving Mick to sit next to Callum, who holds Mick’s hand on the center console as he drives onto the highway and towards Maranello. It is a quick drive, and they only stop once when they nearly arrive at Marcus’ place, to pick up some take out for dinner. Callum pulls up in the driveway, telling both of them to get inside with the food, while he takes care of their luggage.

Dinner is a quiet affair, as they put some rerun of a basketball match on the TV as they dig into the food, though none are really too interested in the happenings that are playing out on the screen, and Marcus announces he is done third wheeling when he finishes up his food, and would instead go back to just existing inside his room, leaving only the two of them with each other.

Being left to their own devices, Mick is suddenly a bit unsure what to do, having not seen Callum in person in the past few months, barring only once when their schedules matched when both were in Maranello during winter break, and there is so much he wants to say and do right at that moment. Callum seems to be in a similar predicament, though he manages to form some coherent thoughts, unlike Mick, and suggests that Mick maybe should take a shower and get the plane smell out of him. Mick reaches out, holding Callum’s forearm and keeping him there for a moment, taking the time to try and get the words out of his mouth, asking if Callum would like to join him.

Callum has shown Mick’s way to the guest bathroom, before going to throw the remaining boxes into the trash. When he joins Mick in the bathroom, he has just pulled off his hoodie, hair in a bit of disarray from the rustling of the clothing. He turns to look at Callum, who pulls him into a hug and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Hi, beautiful.” Callum greets.

Unsatisfied with what he considers to be miniscule contact, Mick takes Callum’s face into his hand, before pulling him into a proper kiss that leaves both of them breathless, then another one, this time with more tongue, the feeling still no less electric, that makes every nerve ending in Mick’s body go into high-alert. They strip off the remaining clothing and go under the shower, neither able to keep their hands to themselves, him going down on Callum quickly, who moans loudly as Mick takes him all in, swirling his tongue to drive him crazy. Callum climaxes quickly, and he manages to get a few strokes in on Mick before Mick follows him over the edge as well. It would be embarrassingly quick for them had it been any other situation, but they could hardly bring themselves to care about it at that moment.

They could only hope that the sound of water in the shower is loud enough to muffle the sounds Callum is making, given they are in Marcus’ home, and they do not relish having to explain themselves, even if Marcus knows and would just give them shit without bothering to ask what they are up to.

They spend what feels like an eternity under the shower, just holding each other and feeling the other’s presence, relishing the feeling of being able to hold the other person in their arms, and only getting out when they feel their skin wrinkling under the water. Callum leads Mick into the guest bedroom that Callum has claimed as his own for his stay, pulling him under the sheets of the large bed. He leans against Mick’s shoulder when they have both settled down, and proceeds to play with Mick’s fingers, eyes closed with a look of content on his face. Mick’s feels his heart growing impossibly bigger, his body telling him that this is all he has missed out on for months, that it is something that he loves so much and wishes to be able to experience much more often. That, as clichéd as it sounds, he feels at home right here, in a different sense to home in Switzerland.

He presses a kiss on the brown hair, now pointing in all sorts of directions, and mumbles into it. Callum shifts a little in place, seemingly deciding he has found a better angle to position himself half on top of Mick. “What’s that?” He asks tiredly.

“Love you.” He has in a whisper still, albeit more audible this time. He would not say it is _terrifying_ to say it out loud, but there is a shiver that goes through his own body when he utters those words. It is not something that he has said to Callum before, at least not as bluntly and directly, but it is also something that he wants to say back to Callum, he realised, after he had heard Callum say it to him just the night before.

“Love you too.” Callum says into his chest without any hesitation, pressing a kiss there through Mick’s t-shirt.

* * *

**30 March 2021**

_Tuesday 08:33 CET_

Callum is a self-confessed morning person, he is usually up and about quite early in the day, having no troubles getting out of bed, and usually would be one of, if not the earliest person to be awake among the people he knows. He is, however, beaten to it this morning, as he wakes up to the feeling of a hand pushing the hair out of his face, then running up and down his arm slowly but softly. He makes a noise, when he feels lips chastely placed on his forehead, cracking open an eye to see Mick smiling down at him, looking fully awake, his ice blue eyes twinkling in the morning light.

“Morning.” Mick whispers. He just stares at Mick for a moment, letting himself basking in the moment, before closing his eyes and wrapping an arm around Mick’s middle and nestling a bit deeper into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent he finds there, finding this scenario too good to get up from just yet.

Mick has let the hair on top of his head grow out a little, after being talked out of buzzing it like last year, by Callum, who insists that the image of it is just a little too close to nightmare fuel. Mick laughed at it, but nonetheless complied with his wishes and not follow through with his plan, and instead made his hair look fluffier than usual.

It is at times like these he finds the doubts that had wormed into his mind entirely silly, which is further accentuated last night, when Mick had told him he loved him, with an arm wrapped around him to keep him close. Mick seems to be able to read that he is thinking of something, because he squeezes him in the side gently, asking him with a little concern in his voice. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” Callum responds, raising his face just enough to kiss Mick’s jawline. “Just brain doing brain things.” He turns to sit up properly, pressing his shoulder against Mick’s, flexes his shoulders a little and lets out a little yawn.

“Want to talk about it?” Mick asks, taking Callum’s hand that is between them. 

He looks at the dresser opposite the foot of the bed as he contemplates his thoughts, while Mick, who is waiting patiently, just rubs a thumb over Callum's wrist slowly as he plays with his hand.

“Maybe.” He finally decides on the non-committal.

“I won’t judge, whatever it is.”

“Just that it feels good being wanted.”

“Of course I want you.” Mick says, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, I know that. I was just being silly.” He affirms, staring out of the window, pondering his thoughts and choosing his words. Mick does not comment further, sensing that he has not finished yet. After a few beats, he turns back to look at Mick. Opening his mouth before closing again.

“I had thought…” Callum starts, turning back towards the window with a shake of his head, “that I’m holding you back, or something like that.”

He lets the thought lie out in the open, Mick’s fingers continue to move around Callum’s, and they sit there, while only the hum of the space heater fills the room. He wonders what Mick is thinking about, but at the same time not daring to look over, as he is starting to feel that he is acting a little ridiculous. He only glances over when Mick picks up his hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“I now get what Marcus means.” Mick says more to himself than Callum, but it does put Callum on high alert, given that could mean a lot of things.

* * *

**17 March 2021**

_Wednesday 23:29 CET_

Callum had flown out to Maranello early, after being told that he would not be flying out to Australia, deciding to go in earlier to go over everything with the factory crew first, so he would be ready for the tasks at hand. Out of convenience, he has asked to crash at Marcus’ place, given its proximity and that it takes away the necessity to look for hotels and the risk being of exposed to the disease, even if places like Maranello are much less traversed now with so much restrictions going on.

It had turned out to be a mistake on his part, depending on how one looks at it. He and Marcus started the night blasting music from some Spotify playlist, doing some terrible singalong and renditions of the songs, which is complete with Marcus giving him a judgmental look when a Miley Cyrus song comes on again. But then it descended to Marcus pulling out a bottle of whiskey from somewhere in his cupboard, and because his thoughts had been weighing on his mind for a few days at that point, and alcohol sometimes is just the perfect depressant, it led to Callum running his mouth about things, becoming a word vomit about things like holding Mick back; about not knowing how serious they are, even if they are talking on a daily basis; about missing him; about wondering how long it would take until Mick decides he has found something better that is worth his time. And other things that he cannot recall that is probably for the better, given the potential embarrassment he would feel had he figured out what else had dropped out of his mouth. 

He ended up waking up the next day at noon with a pounding headache, lying on the sofa with a blanket dumped haphazardly on him, and seeing Marcus sitting on the kitchen island, eyeing him with concern, while also looking worse for wear from drinking way too much. He had sworn Marcus to secrecy when he found himself awake enough, all the while dodging questions of whether he wanted to talk about it. Marcus eventually left it, though not without sternly telling him that he should talk to Mick.

* * *

**30 March 2021**

_Tuesday 08:47 CET_

He is a bit alarmed by Callum _looking alarmed_ at what he has just said, so he elaborates that Marcus only said he would be concerned if Mick had not decided to come to Maranello when being told that Callum is around, and that Callum misses him a lot.

Callum visibly relaxes a lot at that reassurance.

Mick rolls the thought around in his head for a while, as Callum drops his head to Mick’s shoulder, playing with the hem of Mick’s shirt, enjoying the time that they can just be mindless for a bit without needing to worry about their responsibilities just yet.

“I don’t want you to think you’d be holding me back,” Mick starts eventually, picking back up the conversation, “it can’t be any further from the truth.” He is determined to make sure Callum knows that - that he is in this if Callum is in it as well. He is not letting this slip away from him when it has been something he had thought of for so long, not knowing if it would be reciprocated or not, not when he feels more complete with Callum coming along.

The only indication that Callum is listening is that he has stopped the fidgeting of his fingers on the hand that Mick has been holding all along.

Mick tells him that he likes that Callum’s sensitivity to his feelings, even if he is not good at talking about feelings himself, he always listens and says just the right thing to Mick, giving him the strength and drive to go forward; likes how Callum is straightforward about what he thinks, even if there is an inherent Britishness to how he understates a lot of things, that he knows what he says is what he means. He likes how Callum is always level-headed, kind, and has his wits to his words with a flash of dramaticness that adds to the amusement to it all. That he thinks that he has always valued Callum to start with, and added with all the things that came after, that he has probably done more good than Callum has realised.

Mick can see the metaphorical cogs turning in Callum’s head as he searches his face for any reaction, before he can see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re one soppy man, Mister Schumacher,” he remarks.

Mick mocks being offended, poorly, as he cannot help but smile, seeing Callum lighting up like this, “and I don’t get to hear anything about me? How unfair is that?” He prods at Callum, who is moving to roll on top of him, so they are face to face, with Callum hovering.

“ _C’est la vie, mon amour_ ” Callum says in poorly accented French, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Maybe if you become my boyfriend, and let me take you out on a date to make up for your birthday, then _maybe_ I’ll let you in on it all.”

Mick grabs a handful of Callum’s t-shirt, keeping him in place and kisses him properly. “Alright, I have no complaints at all, boyfriend.”

* * *

_Tuesday 12:51 CET_

They leave the flat some time after noon, leaving Marcus, who is lounging on the sofa ( _existing_ as Callum describes it) and not even batting an eyelid at them moving around the place and leaving him behind. Callum drives them out of town, down to Bologna, parking the car at a spot in the main street in the center, before leading Mick through some side streets to a small café tucked away in a less traversed corner.

Callum explains it is a place he would disappear to when he needed some time to himself, allowing himself to disconnect or brood. The place is sufficiently out of the way and offers enough privacy, even in Ferrari country (though he concedes that Mick is probably infinitely more recognisable than himself). But there is also the fact that he thinks the place serves some good coffee and pastries, both sweet and savoury, if Mick is inclined to take a gander on the food as well. Mick says he will just count this as a cheat meal, enjoy some quality time now, and worry about his targets later.

Mick is sat there scrolling on his phone, looking for the picture from Melbourne of a seagull stood on the handlebar of his suitcase, intending to show Callum to convince him that it actually happened. Before he manages that though, he gets a text from the man sat across him, and sees a candid of himself concentrating on the phone, a small smile on his lips, with the cup of steaming coffee in front of him. “Dashing”, the text that accompanies the photo reads. He cannot help but break out into a full smile, eyes crinkling, while Callum looks equally pleased with himself, hiding his smirk behind the cup of coffee.

They sit there for a better part of three hours, their two pieces of cakes long gone by then, and the second cup of coffee (and Callum’s apple juice) well on their way to be finished, their focus is more on each other, talking about everything while looking at the outside world through the window, or at each other, about things like Callum’s fascination about Florence after that time seeing the picture of it as the background for one of the press conferences in Italy, but having still not yet gotten around to visit it; or Mick about missing his sister, who is off in Texas at their family ranch lately working with horses, and about how he is looking forward to visiting the ranch when the calendar gets to COTA. It is like their frequent calls, but being in the presence of the other, for a moment without the time pressure of their obligations, which just makes it all the more enjoyable and sweeter, without the longing that they sometimes feel when talking to each other or seeing each other through a screen is the most they could get.

They are about to leave, when Callum halts their movements, as they both remain seated in the secluded corner of the café, uninterrupted by the outside world. He rummages through the pocket of his hoodie, before producing a simple paper bag, pouring out its contents, and revealing a pair of bracelets that are dark, but hints of gold shine through, from the reflection of sunlight shining on them.

“It’s a bit self-indulgent, really,” Callum says, with a bit of a shrug, “I thought I’d get you something for your birthday that’s low key and nothing too much, and not something you’d just put on the side and take up space.”

It is a bit more simple than the one Mick occasionally wears, the one with a mix of beads and some spacers to go with it, but Mick thinks it does the job perfectly, probably would do just fine with his looks, not standing out and in everyone’s face. He picks one up, examining the beads and looking at how the beads shine at some angles, while Callum is still rambling on. He asks, finally when Callum pauses, “what is this stone? It looks nice.”

“Gold obsidian, I believe,” he answers, before muttering “Would be embarrassing if I don’t know what it is after annoying the lady at the shop for like an hour.” Mick slips it on, before picking up the other one.

“I believe this is for you?” He asks, and Callum has it in him to blush a little as he nods, while Mick just grabs his hand and slips it on for him as well.

“I like this quite a lot.” Mick decides, “thank you. I think it is just perfect.”

* * *

_Tuesday 19:11 CET_

When they got back, Marcus could be found in the exact same position on the sofa where they had left him hours ago. It is not outside the realm of possibility that Callum’s best friend has not moved an inch all day, just existing in the vacuum of the living room for all day. He had shot them a look when they entered the flat, but if he noticed the matching bracelets when they returned, he did not say anything.

Callum has taken upon himself to make dinner for all of them, refusing Mick’s offer to help out, reassuring him that he has everything under control; while Marcus just questions why would Mick even bother to get his hands dirty, when the king of pasta has decided to cook. Callum just rolls his eyes, shoos Mick away with a pat on the arse, before getting to work. He gets on with raiding Marcus’ cabinets for the ingredients, thankful that the Kiwi somehow has everything he needs in stock, (and not bloody eight months expired,) before getting on with chopping up the ingredients and cooking up the sauce, sprinkling in the various seasonings that he always uses to prepare his tomato sauce. He turns the stove down so that the sauce is just simmering, eyeing up other vegetables in Marcus’ fridge, figuring out a second option just to spice it up a little.

He can hear the other two chatting at the sofa, though he cannot make out the topic of their discussion, but he trusts both of them enough, misplaced or not, to not be conspiring against him while he is trying to feed them.

“Marcus, can I use your avocado?” He yells into the living room, as he is already retrieving another knife and spoon to open it up. When he turns around with an answer not forthcoming, he finds both of them hovering behind him. “Yeah, whatever.” Marcus answers, after peeking at the pots and deciding he is content with the state of affairs, despite his overt inability to cook for himself.

“You realise you’ve bagged yourself an amazing cook, right?” he hears Marcus asking Mick, who just protests that not everyone is as hopeless as Marcus in the kitchen, and he has to say that he has to agree with his boyfriend on that one.

A short while later, he quite proudly presents two pots of penne pasta - one being in tomato sauce, and the other with avocado sauce, and is best pleased when Mick more or less _moans_ as he takes a generous bite of the food, while Marcus gives him an “I told you so” look, squarely ignored by both of them.

* * *

**31 March 2021**

_Wednesday 21:12 CET_

The day after had been a busy one, for Callum at least, as he had to be in the factory for the day, participating in some sort of debrief for the first two events with the trackside team, including Charles and Carlos, and do other work at the factory, getting some PR work or other done as well to fit in a whole full day schedule. Callum had been reluctant to get out of bed in the morning, not in the least bit made more difficult by Mick wrapping an insistent arm around him and refusing to let him go, mumbling _no_ as Callum tried to convince Mick to let him get up. He succeeded in the end, though leaving himself with a much slimmer margin of error in terms of making it in time for the first feedback meeting with the race engineers. He does not have it in himself to hold it against Mick though, considering it is not the norm that they could get a few days of each other together uninterrupted by real life obligations.

On Mick’s end, he ends up commandeering Marcus’ workout equipment when he finally wakes up properly, working through his workout regimes that manages to take up a good chunk of time, only stopping to make a quick store run to replenish Marcus’ supplies that have been depleted by them, and to pick up the ingredients for the diet plan he is supposed to follow, especially with the prior day ending up to be a whole cheat day, not that anyone needs to know that part. He would make an effort to make what he is supposed to eat, and put in some extra sets of workout routines in the afternoon as well, trying to compensate a little without overexerting himself. Marcus joins him somewhere in the middle of his afternoon session, going through his own program as well. By the end of afternoon, Mick is a sweaty mess, his phone abandoned somewhere on the floor for hours. He picks it up to find Callum having texted him little comments about the happenings here and there, and he goes to reply to them as he goes in search of a much needed shower. He finally gets to his own laptop, when he is done showering, to read through work emails and type out appropriate responses, or forward them to Sabine if he thinks she is better placed to manage the matter. He is just about to finish when he hears the front door opening, and Callum announcing his presence to the house.

Dinner is a low-key affair, Marcus having abandoned the two of them, and with both of them exhausted for different reasons, Mick mostly physically, Callum being mind-numbed after a full day of mental work. Neither intend to go to sleep easily though, with the knowledge that Mick is going to fly out the next morning to go home and get properly prepared for the next race in China.

Callum was content to just stay up later and talk, but apparently Mick has had other plans, because his boyfriend is on him the minute he steps out of the shower, pulling him close and into a long kiss that has plenty of tongue, and leaves both of them panting for air. “Feeling eager?” Callum had quipped, before he realises his confession from the prior morning is still weighing somewhere in Mick’s mind.

“I’ll show you how much I love you. How much I’ll think of you when we’re apart.” Mick whispers into his ears, voice much lower than his usual, which all just goes to his groin immediately.

He is left at Mick’s mercy, as he is drawn into kiss after kiss, before Mick finally takes Callum’s shirt off and slowly works down his body, by then already rendering him being painfully hard. Mick was in no hurry though, as he pressed a kiss at every inch of skin that he could reach, mumbling something reverently as he moved from one spot to the next. Mick complied easily, when he is demanded to have his shirt off as well, and Callum pulled him back on top of him, relishing in the feeling of their bodies moving against each other, skin-on-skin, as well as some much needed friction to be provided to him to move against.

It is quite a while later, when Callum finds himself stark naked, being spread apart, as Mick uses his fingers to work him open gently and slowly, all the while resting his forehead against Callum’s mumbling sweet nonsense at him, telling him that he is the most beautiful person he has ever loved, or some other thing, all that is etched into the back of Callum’s mind. When he finally gets to have Mick inside him, it feels like sweet relief, but also sweet torture, as Mick pushes into him with little urgency, making every thrust slow and sweet, kissing Callum languidly as he swallows the moans he elicits out of him, hitting his prostate squarely every slow but firm thrusts, as Mick literally _makes love_ to him, and Callum’s senses are filled with nothing but just _Mick, Mick, Mick_.

He finally comes, which only happens when Mick finally puts a hand between them and strokes him quickly, as well speeding up his thrusts gradually but precisely. When it happened, it felt like the longest and most extreme orgasm he could ever remember, and he, even in his white-out, he could hear Mick letting out a drawn-out airy groan into the crook of his neck, as Mick follows him over the cliff.

They stayed there, boneless for an inordinate amount of time, as both struggled to catch a breath, coming down from the high, their minds becoming nothing but mush, struggling to form a coherent thought. Mick eventually gingerly and slowly pulls out of him and roll off Callum. Callum tries hard, but failed to not to wince at the sensation, which prompted an apology from Mick which Callum paid no attention to, instead directing what energy he has to push Mick’s sweaty hair out of his forehead, a lazy smile gracing his face as he mumbles that Mick is just _perfect_.

It must be at least a good half an hour later before either could form a coherent thought, and it is Mick who speaks up first, voice hoarse, as he places a hand over Callum’s heart. “That would be the only thing I could think about for a long time. I love you.”

Callum places a hand over Mick’s, echoing what he said. “I love you more.” It elicits a chuckle out of Mick, remarking that it does not have to be a competition. Callum told him that it is not a competition, because between the both of them, he thinks it isn’t a contest, that Callum has won in this.

They spend shower clung to the other to try and keep upright, especially Callum who is still sore and a little jelly-legged. When they wrap around each other under the covers, only managing to pull on sweatpants before deciding it is enough effort to be exerted for the night, Mick lets Callum run his fingers through his hair, telling him that he wishes to burn all of his caps.

It is when Callum is on the verge of falling asleep, that Mick speaks up again, asking if Callum is still awake. All the while there is not any intention to wake him up if he happens to already be fast asleep, with hands still securely wrapped around him, and not shaking him to gain his attention. Callum, though, hums to tell him he is listening, and cracks open an eye to look at his boyfriend, who is still looking at him adoringly.

“I have been thinking of getting a place around Maranello,” Mick starts, “since the team is moving some factory work to the building next to your team's.” Callum hums, indicating that he is still listening.

“I was wondering,” Mick pauses, seemingly choosing his words, “since you don’t have a flat here anymore, if you’d want to house hunt with me? So we have a place for ourselves and you don’t need to crash here every time.” Mick sounds a bit unsure, but Callum thinks there is literally no downside to this, so he just kisses Mick’s chest where his lips could reach, nodding in assent, and finally mumbling that they could look into it.

* * *

**1 April 2021**

_Thursday 09:21 CET_

Mick is awakened from his slumber, still feeling a little boneless. At first he is not sure by what he is awaken, knowing that his flight is not until after lunchtime, and that he knows that his own car would be waiting for him at the airport for the drive back home. Then he realises the reason is probably due to the emptiness of the bed he is in, with nothing curling around him, or lying next to him for the matter. He blindly feels around the bed, and the spot next to him is still very warm, which indicates that it is occupied until recently. He hears some sound, and it is until then that he cracks open his eyes, and sees Callum’s silhouette standing by the curtained window, with the crack of light that slips in letting him see the sweatpants that are holding onto his waist loosely, and still sans a top.

He sees Callum is holding his phone, covering his mouth around it as he appears to be trying to keep quiet, though judging by the fact that Mick has woken up, or the fact that he could make out most words of his next sentence, _in Italian no less_ , he has probably not done too good of a job to achieve what has been intended.

“Okay. You are aware that today is April Fools, correct?” The fact that he sounds serious makes Mick wake up a bit more quickly than he would otherwise, and he quietly swings out of bed, navigating his way around so he could walk over to where his boyfriend is stood.

“Okay, alright. So when I come in tomorrow, the meeting is for real, right?”

“Aight, cool. Thanks a lot. Yes, speak soon.”

Just as Callum hangs up the phone, Mick sneaks an arm around him, and Callum nearly jumps out of his skin, before realising that it is Mick.

“What’s up?” Mick asks into Callum’s shoulder blade.

Callum lets out a little disbelieving laugh. “Talk about timing. They call you on freaking April Fools to tell you that you have a FP session for China.”

Mick feels his eyes widen, “for real?”

“Well, they swore up and down _and sideways_ that it is not a prank. I'll find out tomorrow.”

“Tell me if they’re doing you that dirty. I swear to god. I’ll come back and burn down that place.”

Callum turns around and pecks him in the lips. “It’s alright, I wouldn’t want my boyfriend getting thrown into prison for arson.”

* * *

_Thursday 14:02 CET_

They do not do anything beyond a quick hug when Callum drops Mick off at the airport, as they are in public after all, but Mick made sure to wear that matching bracelet, and he plays with Callum’s matching one momentarily before he finally steps away, telling Callum that he would see him soon.

He would receive a red heart emoji as he is about to step on the flight, and this time he sends back a red heart in return with a smile on his face, beneath his face mask, and flips his phone into flight mode.

**Author's Note:**

> AST = Arabian Standard Time (i.e. Bahrain time)  
> CET = Central European TIme  
> (I took a shortcut and did not figure out the timezones for the Melbourne GP soz)
> 
> you can find my side Tumblr for this ao3 a/c: [schulott](https://schulott.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Oh and I'd appreciate a lot if you would spare some feedback!


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